Just A Little Love
by Midst Ride
Summary: When the Hardys' decide to foster a teenager, they get moody, tempermental, and unpredictable Frank Grant. Just as Frank starts to open up and heal, he learns his father is back in Bayport -- seeking revenge on both Frank and Joe.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Just A Little Love

Author: Midst Ride

Author's notes: Keep in mind that this is very, very, very AU.

Inspired by "Make Lemonade" and "Surviving the Applewhites".

Please note that the "Healthy Mom, Healthy Baby" program is not real, and does not represent any actual program.

Another note: The foster care systems, along with other various references to other organizations in this story, are not real.

--

_Splash Page/Sneak Peak/Trailer_

_"Mom?" Frank demanded, looking at his mother in shock and shaking his head. "That's a lie. My mother is Celestine. She did everything but birth me. She did everything for me. Celestine is my mother. She said not to respect my real mother, since I was a drop-off baby." _

_Laura closed her eyes for a moment, regaining her composure. "Frank, if she did 'everything' for you, then why are you in the foster care system?"_

_"You shouldn't even be allowed to foster kids, since you seem so fond of dropping them off," Frank yelled, running to his bedroom and slamming his door. Then, loud enough to be heard, he yelled, "I give you ten days before you give me up again, and that's being generous!"_

Chapter One, Part One

_Laura, 17_

"The baby's due any minute!" Laura yelled at her mother, gasping in pain. "Can't you call 911, or something?"

"And how are we supposed to pay for this with no money?" Laura's mother demanded, standing over her angrily. "I've birthed thousands of babies at the hospital, Laura! Don't tell me I can't birth yours."

_No money, my foot, _Laura thought angrily, staring at her mother. They had plenty of money. Laura's family was very wealthy. Her father was a lawyer, her mother was an RN, and the annual income was well over three figures. "In the hospital you've birthed thousands of babies! I'm on the damn baby program, they're paying for it!"

"They don't pay for premature babies!" Laura's mother yelled.

"It's premature by a day!" Laura shouted back, "And they do!"

Laura had recently left the house, having been told by her mother to leave and never come back. She had joined a "Healthy Mom, Healthy Baby" program. Recently, however, her father had found her, and dragged her home. Again.

She was still on the "Healthy Mom, Healthy Baby" program. All that meant now, however, was that she had to attend her classes – and give up her child at the end. She couldn't drop out in the middle. She'd signed a contract. Now, however, she regretted it. As a baby's wailing scream entered the world, Laura Hardy wondered exactly what her life had turned too.

_LAURA HARDY, 33_

"Hey, Mom," 14-year-old Joe said. "Any mail for me?"

"Nope," Laura replied, smiling. Her son was always asking about the mail, even though he never got anything. "Sorry, honey. Good news, though. Your father and I were just approved for the foster care program."

"They told you that _by mail_?" Joe asked, staring at the open letter on the table.

"No, we got the telephone call this afternoon. That's from the child we're sponsoring," Laura replied, sweeping the mail into the side table drawer. "Anything exciting happen at school?"

"Brent got expelled. Seems he had a cell phone on him."

"He got expelled for having a cell phone?"

"He would've just gotten detention, but he went to the principle's and revealed he had a knife in his pocket."

"He threatened the principle with a knife?"

"Nope. Just me," Joe replied with a grin.

"_He threatened you with a knife? Why didn't the school call me_?"

"Dad was already there, giving a lecture. He said he knew you would flip out, so he would just tell you when you got home."

"Why on earth did Brent threaten you with a knife? And where was he, that he threatened you with this—Joe, what's that bandage for on your arm?"

"Um… Bruise at soccer practice?" Joe suggested sheepishly. At a glare from Laura, he said, "I said something to Brent. I was trying to calm him down. The next thing I knew he stabbed me."

Laura groaned. "Joe, only you could be stabbed in the principle's office… Wait, speaking of stabbed, why _were_ you in the principle's office? Do I want to know?"

"I was just telling him about our latest school's absence, Mom. Well, I was going to. Now he says it doesn't matter."

"Only you, Joe. Listen, our foster kid is going to arrive tomorrow. We need to straighten up the guest room for him. 'K?"

"When did we actually find out we were fostering this child?" Joe asked.

"A week ago. I just had to sign the papers, but I really wasn't sure who we were fostering and I didn't want you to know until we were absolutely sure."

"So who is it we're fostering?" Joe asked.

"A fifteen-year-old named Frank," Laura replied.

"Frank… Does he have a last name?"

"Everyone does, Joe, sometimes they just don't know it. Or they choose not to know it. Either way, we wouldn't be getting that information."

Joe nodded. His mother was always looking for ways to give back in the community. Recently, she'd signed up for the foster-to-adopt program, a program for teenagers. Over the course of the last few months, Joe had been warned that this might not work out, that the teenager might be moody, blah, blah, blah. Joe was excited about having another sibling, though. It got lonely, being the only child, even though he had a lot of friends.

"He arrives tomorrow? Why so quickly?"

"Teenagers always need homes, Joe. As soon as they get someone approved for the system, the foster care process actually is pretty quick."

Half of Joe hoped tomorrow would get here soon.

The other half of Joe hoped it would never come.


	2. Chapter 2

After I got seven reviews for the first chapter, I decided to be nice, and post the second chapter tonight. I hope everyone who reads it reviews. Because you know me. I love reviews. And, yeah, I respond to each one. So, like, review. And thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Oh yeah. I made a mistake on Laura's age in the first chapter. You're welcome to go back and check, I have corrected it).

Chapter Two, Part 1

Laura, 18

"_Fenton, I love you," Laura replied with a smile on her face._

"_I love you too. All I can think about is waking up, and being with you," Fenton replied. "You know what I think that means?" he asked, sitting up._

"_What?"_

"_That we're supposed to be together," he said, opening a box. "Laura, honey, would you be my wife?"_

_Line_

Frank arrived at the Hardy's household at 3:45 p.m. the next afternoon. His social worker, a man named Gregory, dropped him off, then gave Laura several sheets of information containing his background and other various tidbits of information.

Despite the constant warning that this new kid could be moody, Joe couldn't help staring from behind the protection of the hallway wall. The teen was wearing black clothing, completely black, and looked like a tropical storm cloud. Joe _knew_ he was being stereotypical, but he was honestly scared of him.

As soon as Greg left, Frank turned to Laura. "Who do I have to share a room with?" he asked. There was a bitter tone of resentment in his voice. "How many people? Don't worry, Greg left. I won't tell him."

"You don't have to share a room with anyone," Laura replied. "Your room will be right next to Joe's, down the hall."

"So, naturally, it will have two bunk beds for this invisible person. Don't worry, lady. Greg don't care."

Joe quickly walked of too his room to avoid being noticed by the two.

"The room just has one bed. Do you want me to sleep on the floor? I can. If my room's really in the basement, just let me know."

"No, Frank, this is really your room."

Joe stepped into the hallway, and watched the two. Frank looked extremely moody. His mother looked nervous.

Frank didn't say anything for a minute, then he sat his falling-apart suitcase on the floor. He turned towards Laura. "You are not my mother," he informed her. "Celestine is my mother. When she gets out of the stupid program they put her in, they'll let her have me back. You'll see. It's not even her fault she's in the program. I'll go back to her house any day now. You'll see. You'll see," he repeated, closing the door.

_Line_

In reality, Frank knew that it wasn't his father's fault that his mother was in the program. Just because his father sold drugs didn't mean his mother had to use them.

His reasoning, however, was if the drugs hadn't been so easy to get, his mother never would have used them. She never would have married his father, either, the slob.

Frank had been stuck in foster care about three years ago. During that time, he had only had one other family. Oh, sure, he'd had others, but they had returned him after a week. This man had kept him two years. It wasn't even a family; it was a single man, "looking for ways to help the community." Yeah. Right. The man wasn't looking for ways to help; he was looking for ways to _hurt_. Luckily, or _unluckily,_ Frank was his first and only victim.

Laura looked like a strong woman. She also looked brave.

In his journal, he wrote:

_Two days if she's a normal person from the normal, loving crap kind of family. You know the type; they look so happy in public._

_Longer if her husband has contrary desires then to foster care._

_Line_

CHAPTER TWO PART TWO

The dinner was almost downright hostile.

In fact, if Frank had not left when he would have, Joe would have bet that the dinner would have _become_ hostile.

Frank barely ate anything. He pretended he wasn't hungry but he looked like he was. "I don't eat much" had been his exact words.

Laura had replied that there was plenty to go around, enough for seconds, even.

The teenager was obviously nervous—he'd barley said two words the entire dinner. He kept staring at Fenton. "What do you need me to do?" he'd asked, halfway through supper.

"What do you mean, what do we need you to do?" Fenton replied. "We don't need anything done, Frank. As long as you're here, you will be treated like family. That means basic chores, like cleaning up after yourself and getting a load of dishes going every now and then. We have a maid service come in twice a week and the neighbor's kid cuts our grass once a week. What would we need you to do?"

Frank shrunk in his seat after that, staring at the plate. He didn't say anything for a few minutes. "So what do you want me for?" had been his next words.

"We wanted to help someone out," Fenton replied.

"I'm not charity," Frank retorted, getting up, knocking his still-full plate over. "My mother will get me. She'll get herself off the program. You'll see. It's not her fault she's in there," he added.

"We're not saying you are, Frank, but—" Frank had already taken off to his room and shut the door.

Reflecting on the dinner, Joe sighed. It was going to be a long couple of days, or months. Frank had been here less then twenty-four hours, but he'd already made a big impression on Joe. Joe just hoped his mother was right, that everyone could be turned around with just a little – or a lot of – love.

_Line_

In "his" room, Frank was also reflecting on the dinner. He had seen Fenton for less then two minutes. He only knew two facts – one, he was a respected PI (whatever that meant), and two, he had no idea why he was here. He'd been happier at the group home, where he had a chance to earn money and there had been no risk from getting beat up from his caretakers.

He opened his journal and turned to the next page.

_Didn't get anything at dinner. Bad place to ask, though. He doesn't look like the nice type. I need to get myself outta here… Fast. _


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

(Sorry! I didn't realize I put the chapter on twice… here's the actual chapter 3!)

CHAPTER THREE

LAURA, AGE 18

"_You mean I get to pick the couple who adopts my baby?" Laura asked with a bright smile. She was relieved. She thought she would just hand over the baby, and that would be it. _

_There was more good news on the horizon, too. The "Healthy Baby, Healthy Mom" foundation had been quite upset with her mother for not taking Laura to the hospital, so Laura was back in their care, and would remain in their care until she was financially able to be out on her own. _

"_Yes, there are quite a few couples in this photo album who are eager to adopt," the woman, Olivia, replied. "They've each prepared a profile so you know how they are, who they are, their income level and such." _

"_Are there any single mothers or fathers?" Laura asked. She wasn't sure she would want one to be the mother or father of her son, Frank. Frank was so young—so innocent—so…_

"_No, we don't allow single parents to adopt young children. That may seem upsetting, but we really know there are at least two people willing to take care of this baby."_

_Laura flipped through the pages, examining the pages. She skipped over the ones who said, "adopted before", or even "adopted before—but want a baby." She finally settled on a couple who couldn't have children. Their names were Celestine and Michael Grant. _

_She didn't know that that was the worst mistake she could have made in her young baby's life._

_--_

Frank glared at the wall, watching the minutes flip over on "his" digital alarm clock. It was 12:01, and he couldn't fall asleep.

There was a knock on the door, and Frank glanced up. It was… Joe? Joe. Yes. That was it. "What do you want?"

"Can't sleep either, huh?"

"What do you want me to do? Read you a bedtime story?" Frank demanded. What was _with_ this kid?

"No. I was just seeing if you were still awake," Joe said. "I'm going back to sleep now."

"Wait." Frank sat up. "What's that bandage on your arm from?"

"I got stabbed by a kid at school."

"How long were you grounded for for that?" Frank retorted. Joe was actually pretty nice, and he had the feeling that if there was any information about why he was here, Joe could give it to him straightforward. That being said, he didn't intend to get too close to Joe. He had heard stories about people getting whisked away on a moment's notice, whether the place they were living in was unsuitable or for no reason at all.

"I wasn't," Joe replied, "it wasn't my fault." He turned around and moved towards the door. "I guess I should go back to bed."  
--

THE NEXT DAY was equally long. Frank was going to be enrolled in Bayport High, even though the year was more then half over. Frank had protested, saying it was pointless, his mother _was_ going to come get him, but Fenton had insisted.

He sat through all of his classes. In each class, the teacher introduced him as "Frank Hardy". He almost rebelled against the words. He _wasn't _a Hardy. He wasn't, he wasn't, he wasn't. Then he decided since most of the people in his family were criminals, the last name "Grant" might not be so good, either.

During study hall, he researched "PI". He was surprised to find out that it meant "private investigator." Fenton was someone who solved crimes, apparently. Whenever police couldn't figure it out, they might call him in as a private investigator.

After that, he finished his schoolwork. He wanted to get into college, because if his mother was stupid _again_, the system wouldn't let her get Frank back.

His mother had been in the drug rehab program six times. The system had finally decided, enough was enough, if she didn't straighten up this time, they'd put Frank _back_ in the system, but as someone who was adoptable. Although Frank hated his father, Michael, he loved Celestine and didn't want to wind up adopted by someone who would pretend to be his "mother".

Supper that night was another hostile affair. Fenton was a

way on a case, but called to warn them that the man who he was sure was responsible had escaped. They should stick together. He was sending Sam to look after Laura; Joe and Frank needed to be together as much as possible.

"_He doesn't even know me," _Frank had retorted, _"nor does he know that I'm charity under this family. Even if he knew, why would he care?" _

"_The man just wants to hurt me. It doesn't matter if you're related to me or not. If he hurts you, I look bad in the public eye, and that's quite okay with him. Stick around Joe, please." _

The "please" had actually not been optional. Frank knew that. So now he was going to have to spend all of his time with this kid named Joe.

Frank _had_ eaten a little supper tonight, mostly so Laura would get off his back. The man who had fostered him previously had not allowed him to eat regularly, and it was a guessing game for Frank to figure out when he was "allowed." He was never allowed to eat at the table, and if he even so much as sat in one of the chairs he'd get a beating.

"_Those chairs are for humans_,_" _the man had often yelled. _"Not dogs!" _

There was a knock on the door, and Joe smiled, entering.

"Haven't you ever heard of waiting until somebody says it's okay to come in before you let yourself in their room?" Frank retorted as soon as he saw who it was.

Joe ignored Frank's sentence. "Hey, Frank. Want to come play football? Biff, Callie, and the rest of the gang'll be there."

"So why do you need me?" Frank retorted. "Your friends are already there."

"Firstly, Mom's staying here because she needs to work on some paper for college, so I need someone to walk me there. Secondly, I actually _do_ want you around, believe it or not."

Frank muttered something and got up. "Fine. But if they start dogging on me because I'm an aid kid, I'm out of there or they'll wind up with bloody noses."


	4. Chapter 4

_Wow! Thanks for the awesome responce... This is a shortie, so I'll give it to you today ). _

CHAPTER FOUR

The basketball game had been fairly uneventful. Nobody had said anything about Frank being in foster care. It was all Frank could do, however, to keep from being upset about them all having "nice" homes and "nice" lives. He enjoyed basketball; his team won.

"Did you have fun?" Joe asked on the way home.

"It was okay," Frank responded. He was still angry about being an aid kid. It was his mother's fault, but it still made him furious. "Who's that guy your dad's worried about? Do you know him?"

"Somebody named Michael Grant. He's been a drug lord for a long time. He got his wife hooked; she was his delivery girl for awhile before she was busted. He's able to stay under the radar because he has millions of people to take the fall for him. Dad says he's this multi-millionaire."

Frank felt his throat closing up. _Oh, God, _he thought, sucking in a breath, _help me_. He still remembered the day the cops had come to their house to arrest Celestine. Michael had been furious and had hit him in front of the officers. _That's_ what had landed him in foster care, not Celestine's drug use, Frank reminded himself.

"Are you okay, Frank? You look as white as a sheet," Joe asked. "We're almost home, but we can stop and get some water or something if you need too."

"N-no, I'm okay," Frank replied, sitting down. "Just give me a second, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem," Joe said, sitting down next to him. "Are you sure you're okay? We can get some water or soda or something. It's okay."

"I'll be fine." In reality, though, Frank was in complete panic. If Michael knew where he was, he would come after him, and Joe would get hurt, too. Joe was a good kid. He didn't deserve Michael's anger. "Let's get home," he said, getting up.

"You don't want a soda? My treat," Joe replied. He grinned. "Don't worry. I want one, too."

"I guess," Frank responded, and allowed himself to follow Joe into the store.

The manager of the small, run-down gas station had a newscast playing. "In other news today, Michael Grant is still on the run. Cops, however, have tracked him to Bayport…"

Frank's face paled. _Oh, my God, _he thought, _what do I do? What do I do? _"We have to get home… Now," he said, tugging on Joe's hoodie.

"Frank, it's okay. Mom won't be mad if we get home at—," Joe checked his watch, "seven-thirty."

"No, Michael's in Bayport. It was just on the news."

Grabbing two Pepsis and getting cash out of his wallet to pay for them, Joe sighed. "Are you sure?"

"It said so on the TV."

Joe muttered something under his breath, then paid for the Pepsis. "Let's get home," he said, "and make sure Sam is there."

The two boys hurried home. Joe was amazed to find out that after only two days there, Frank had turned into a completely different person. It seemed his mother was right; everyone needed a little bit of love.

When they got home, Joe panicked. "I don't recognize that car. Do you?"

Frank shook his head, his stomach clenching. He hoped he didn't recognize it, but he had a gnawing feeling in his stomach. _What if it was Michael's car? _

Joe threw open the door to the house, and there stood Michael Grant, smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

Welll... I'm not sure how that happened. I placed the correct chapter three, so anyone who didn't get to read that, you can. I apologize. I know I'm a spaz, but I didn't think I was that much of a spaz! Anyway... Wow! I love all the reviews I'm getting. Thanks so much. Here's the next chapter. Yes, yes. I do like to udpate fast... I'll respond to all the reviews, eventually!

_Line_

"Lookie here, boys," Michael sneered as he slammed the door shut. "I was waiting for Joe's mother to go back. The note card said she'd just gone to the store, but didn't say what one. I didn't want to wait around long, but I guess I won't have to, now will I, _Frankie_?" he sneered.

Frank's stomach completely dropped to the ground. "Take me," he whispered. "Leave Joe alone."

"Leave Joe alone. Hmmm… no, won't do. That wouldn't give me nearly the revenge I want." He smiled. "Celestine sends her best wishes," he added, grabbing Frank by the wrist.

"Frank?" Joe whispered. His face was pale. "What's going on here?"

"Didn't Frank tell you as soon as you told him that I was who your dad was worried about? Yessir… I'm Frankie's father, here!" One hand gripped Frank; the other gripped the gun in his pocket. "Joe, you have two choices. You can come with me, and nobody gets hurt – yet – or you can come with me, hurt, and Frank can be here in a body bag."

"Leave my mom alone," Joe hissed angrily. Inwardly, though, he was terrified. Yes, he had been held hostage once or twice, but never kidnapped; his father always wanted him away from his work.

"Come with me now!" Michael grabbed Joe's wrist, dragging him out the door. He opened the rear end of his pickup, and forced both boys inside. Closing the lid, he laughed. His plan was about to succeed.

_Line_

Frank knew this pickup well. Michael used it to transport drugs because it had a lockable cover over the rear end. He was very surprised that the police hadn't confiscated it; _everyone_ – at least every drug dealer – knew what it looked like. Most drug dealers, he found, were happy to rat out other drug dealers, they could have more profit then.

Joe was beside him, terrified. Frank was genuinely worried for Joe; Michael could do horrible things—especially when he was angry.

"Joe," he whispered, looking at his foster brother. "Joe, are you okay?"

Joe shook his head timidly. "He's gonna kill me," he whispered, "He's gonna kill me!"

_Line_

Laura arrived home, disappointed to see Frank and Joe weren't home yet. _Oh, well, _she thought; they would be home soon enough. Joe had said he was going to take Frank to Mr. Pizzeria's, have him meet the gang. Laura had replied that was a great idea.

Frank reminded Laura so much of her own son, Frank, who she'd been forced to give up. She often wondered where Frank was; she hoped he'd been given the best family ever. Celestine and Michael had looked like good parents when she'd picked them. Hopefully, they were still good parents now.

The door swung open, and Laura glanced up. "Fenton! I'm glad you're home. Did you solve the case?"

"Not yet," he admitted with a sigh. "Where are Frank and Joe?"

"Out."

"I thought I told them _explicitly_ to stay home!"

"No, you told them _explicitly_ they needed to stay together. I said I thought that the pizzeria was fine."

Fenton swore angrily. "Michael Grant, the man I'm after. He just headed to Bayport… Do you know where they are?"

"Michael Grant?" Laura asked, her mouth numb. "Oh, my God – Lord, forgive me!"

"What happened, Laura? What happened? Did you see him?"

"No, but I know that name. Frank had mentioned that his mother was Celestine but I never put the two together…" Laura took a deep breath. "You know how I told you I had a baby but I had to give it up do to the 'Healthy Baby, Healthy Start' program, right?"

"Right. Where are you going with this? I have to find out where the boys are."

"I gave him up to a family. The mother was Celestine Grant, the father was Michael Grant…"

Fenton's face paled. "Then there is a distinct possibility he would want to get his son back," he said, "and all he would have to do was get our information on from the Social Service's worker… I'm calling them, right now. Laura, find our boys."

"I'm going to start by calling the pizzeria," Laura replied. "Then I'll call everyone's families. Fenton, see if he got that information, because if he did, he may well have come here when we were gone."


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks for all the reviews, I love 'em! I will respond to each as I get time. They mean so much. PLEASE continue to review. It helps with__ speedy updates. LOL. _

_Oh, and I suppose I should post this chapter becuase Polaris'05 posted hers for me. Thanks for everything, guys (and girls). _

_Line_

Joe clung closer to Frank again. He was terrified. "Is he really your dad?" he asked.

"No," Frank replied, and Joe breathed a sigh of relief. "But he is my adoptive parent, Joe. He and his wife—my mother—took care of me. I guess you could call it that, anyway. My birth mother just dropped me off, abandoned me."

"She just abandoned you? How could she _do_ that?"

"Celestine said she was in the middle of her own problems; that she had a controlling mother, couldn't keep me. Doesn't matter. She abandoned me."

Joe was fairly quiet after that, digesting what he'd heard. He knew some of the most popular kids in school, the kids he hated, were adopted. The school's bully was a foster kid. Maybe they all had Frank's problem—they just wanted a little bit of love, and nobody would, or could, give it to them.

"What's your necklace say?" Joe asked, noticing it for the first time.

"It's Spanish for _God Will Provide_," Frank said. "It's the only thing my birth mother gave me that I kept."

"Oh," Joe replied, suddenly silent.

The car was silent for a few minutes, and despite the terror at clawing at his stomach, Joe fell asleep. Frank couldn't fall asleep. He had been so glad when Michael had gone to prison! Why had he come back now? _Why_? And where was Celestine?

Hadn't she _promised_ to protect him? Hadn't she _promised_ to get off drugs? (And since when did he believe anything Celestine promised, anyway?)

He decided that he hated the world. Nobody ever kept their promises, ever. Laura, well, she would hate him as soon as she realized that it was _his_ fault Joe got kidnapped. Oh, he didn't kidnap Joe, no; but his father found out where Joe was through Frank.

Joe was so innocent. He hadn't seen the things Frank had seen. He hadn't been exposed to the things Frank had been exposed to. Sure, there was always the pressure of drugs, no matter _what_ high school you attended, but that was different between the _pressure _of drugs and being around them 24/7.

At least Michael was obviously sober right now. Frank silently thanked God for that. He hadn't thanked God much lately, or even talked to God, really. Now… Now he needed someone's help, and the only person who was there… _if_ He even was there… was God.

Soon, the car pulled to a stop, and Frank winced. He had hoped, as ridiculous as it seemed, that he would never be anywhere with Michael again, even though he knew that seemed unlikely. Celestine was hopelessly in love with Michael, and every time the two got out of jail, they managed to track each other down. "Wake up, Joe," he hissed, knowing full well how Michael felt about finding people sleeping.

"Five more minutes, Mom… Tell Dad it's his turn to take out the trash."

Despite himself, Frank laughed. Joe had had a good home, a good family. He didn't need this. He didn't deserve this.

"Wake that dang kid up before I do," Michael hissed, coming back to the back of the truck. "Giddout, Frank."

"I'm coming, he's coming." Frank had learned over the years that the _only _way to pacify Michael's anger was to do everything he wanted, everything; to take the blame upon yourself, and to hide things he didn't want to see.

Joe darted awake, feeling Frank's hand on his shoulder. "Who? What? Why? Where?" he asked groggily.

"You gotta wake up," Frank whispered, looking at Michael, who was standing there, expectantly.

"I _am_ awake!" Joe protested.

"Good." Michael's hand tightened on the gun, and Frank's stomach clenched as he realized what Michael was about to do.

"Michael, _NO_!" Frank yelled, his mouth hanging open. "Leave Joe alone. You can't kill him. Please—I'll do anything… Please don't kill him…"


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay, I suppose that I should post this chapter today. I'm getting an average of 7-8 reviews a chapter, which is awesome! If you're reading this and you haven't reviewed for chapter six, please do so. It would mean a lot to me! Oh, and please review for this one too. Enjoy your early present, lol! _

_Midst Ride_

Michael seemed to be thinking as his finger hesitated on the trigger. "Get him out of the trunk," he said finally as he walked towards the house. "Follow me."

Frank helped Joe out, then followed him, well aware that Michael was _only_ happy because he knew what (or who, rather) he could use to control Frank. Michael had often mentioned to Celestine that Frank was uncontrollable, rebellious boy, and he was sorry they'd ever adopted him.

Celestine replied that they had been lucky to get _any_ baby at all, and Michael could hate Frank all he wanted, but she was going to choose to love him.

"_I'm your mother, Frank," she'd said one day. "Don't you ever let anyone tell you any different! I don't care if your birth mother comes and finds you; she's not your mother! Did she raise you? No. I am your mother."_

"Sit, Joe." Michael pointed to a cot and another bed.

Frank was inwardly panicking, but he tried not to show it; this was the house where Celestine had started drugs. Where Michael became a hotshot drug dealer. This was the house in his dreams that flooded him with nightmares.

"Snap out of it," Michael ordered Frank, glaring at him. Frank swallowed his nervousness. He sighed and looked at Joe, who was terrified. "Do your parents care about you, _Joseph_?"

Joe just sat there. He looked terrified. He didn't say a word. Frank could relate, but he knew that Michael hated it when someone didn't say anything, so he mouthed, "Say something, Joe."

"Y-y-yes," Joe stuttered. Giving himself a second to calm down, he said, "Y-yes, sir."

"Good. 'Cause if not, then, well…" Michael shrugged, glancing at Frank. "You might become a rebel like him. I'm going out. Frank, try and escape and I'll kill you both, you understand? Take Joe to your room."

Joe followed Frank to Frank's bedroom, which was a stripped bed mattress on a bed. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling.

"Welcome to my life," Frank said. He heard a _click_ as Michael shut the door and locked it behind them before going out.

Joe started to say something, then stopped. What could he even say? Frank had suffered so much more then he ever had, he had so much. He remembered the various times he'd complained about his father grounding him. He could already tell his home life was nothing compared to Frank's.

Frank was already digging in the corner for something, and Joe watched with interest. "What are you doing?" Joe asked, curious.

"I'll tell you as soon as he leaves," Frank replied. Slowly, he pulled out a knife and a piece of rope.

"What are you doing?" Joe asked, glancing warily at the knife.

"Relax, I'm not going to stab you," Frank retorted, noticing Joe's glance at the knife. "And before you tell me I don't know what I'm doing because I do. I've done it before," he added at Joe's glance. "Well, almost," he added, thinking it over.

After what seemed like hours of agonizing silence, they finally heard Michael's pickup pull away. "Finally," Frank muttered, grabbing the knife. "The last time I was in here, I used these to get to try to out... Police got here first, though."

Joe was curious to know the story behind that, but he sensed that Frank didn't want to talk about it. Frank was one of those types of people who couldn't be pushed into talking.

"Was locked in here for almost two days… I back talked to Dad, told him it was his fault my mom used drugs," Frank said. Joe realized that was the first time he'd ever referred to Celestine as his mom. "On the second day, I was tired of just waiting around, so I decided to get my but off the ground. I had a knife, but wasn't really sure I could get out of the door without getting caught, so I waited. When I heard them pull away, I got out my knife. I don't know why… I was just really upset, and actually, I was really worried they'd leave me there. I knew Mom wouldn't, but Dad… I wasn't so sure," he said. "Mom was so hooked on drugs then that she followed Dad's way and will only because he gave them to her for no cost."

Yeah, Joe could totally see Michael locking Frank in the dingy bedroom and not coming back – no wonder why Frank hated his dad so much, especially since it seemed like Michael was the one who got Frank's mom – Celestine? – hooked on drugs.

As Frank continued to cut through the door, he continued slowly. "I waited for awhile, but they didn't come back. I was a big fan of crime shows—you know, where the dude gets busted. I'd watch anything that involves drugs, especially if the dude was caught. One of them had a dude who was able to escape from his bedroom by doing this."

_See, TV is useful, Mom, _Joe thought, smiling at Frank, silently encouraging him to go on with his story.

"I started sawing at the door. I really worked hard the second day when Dad didn't come back. I was worried he and Mom had left me there for good. Knowing Dad, I wasn't surprised… Mom didn't surprise me that much either, to be honest, because I knew she was pretty much into his drug supply all the time. So I was just sawing at the door. Me, and my starving body, sawing. The third day came and I was starting to panic. I knew people could die in three days from dehydration, so I worked really hard. Busted my tail end, cut my finger several times. You can still see the scars."

Frank paused for a few minutes, and the only thing that filled the room was the constant gnawing of Frank's knife. "Some cops rescued me the next day, they'd gotten some tip, I guess. I was put in foster care pretty soon after that. Mom kept writing, saying she'd get off drugs, that she'd get off drugs." Frank glanced at Joe, trying to see if the younger boy was actually listening.

"Once, after I found a family that might like me, might _possibly_ keep me… She came back. Tested negative for drugs. She was allowed to keep me. I thought it was a dream come true – I hated foster care. I guess you know the story, though. It wasn't a dream come true after all."

Suddenly, Joe heard a small noise, and he glanced up. Frank smiled widely, and the door swung open. "Come on," he told Joe, "we really need to get out of here before he gets back. I'm not going to let you get hurt."


	8. Chapter 8

_OK, this is the chapter that's the most unrealistic. So just bear with me, okay? :) Glad you all love it so much. Here's a present. I didn't think I'd be able to get Internet access today, but I was able too -- so, ya'll are getting a post. Please continue to review! It means so much to hear your awesome, encouraging reviews! Which, I will respond to eventually, of course! :) _

_Oh, & by the way: Joe's number is not Joe Hardy's actual number. I didn't feel like taking the time to "google" it... :) _

_Midst Ride_

"Where are we going now? To find a phone?" Joe asked.

Frank shook his head. "You can't trust anyone in this town – most of the people are drug dealers, or know my dad and are pissed that I turned him in. Even though I didn't," he added, at Joe's blank stare. "The next two towns aren't safe either, so we'll have to cross some serious territory."

"Why can't we just _call_?" Joe wailed, glaring at Frank, like _he_ was the enemy.

"Did I not just tell you? There are people in this town who would love to kill me! It is not safe in this town. The next town we can call. We have to _go_, Joe, we have to go now."

Joe started running, trying to keep pace with Frank. "I want to go home. I want to call now. Why can't we?"

Groaning, Frank ignored Joe and instead focused on running. After a few minutes of silence, he said, "We can probably call in the next town. The police weeded out some of the major players there. We can't call here. Everyone who sees me will report to Michael. You know your dad's number?"

"Yeah." Joe was quiet, wondering why on earth Frank did not want to call in this town. He suspected that it had something to do with them taking Frank back to Michael before. "Frank," he asked, slowing down to a walk, "have the cops ever picked you up before?"

"What's it to you?" Frank asked. "You gonna tell your mom?"

"I was just asking," Joe replied, defending himself.

"They did. But it's none of your business," Frank added.

Silently, Joe wondered if he was brought back to Michael by the cops, and that's why he didn't trust them.

Frank managed to get to the telephone first. "What's the number?" he asked Joe, glancing nervously back behind, wondering if Michael could have trailed them.

"323-445-7656," Joe replied. "Why don't you just call the cops?"

"I told you, I don't _trust_ them," Frank said.

"Why the heck not?"

"They brought me back to Michael, okay?" Frank yelled, slamming down the telephone. "For _crying_ _out_ _loud_! What's the number again?"

"I'll call," Joe said, dialing his father's number quickly.

"Joe, thank God you're okay," Fenton said. "Where are you?"

"I don't know," Joe wailed, and Fenton winced. He was going to kill Michael Grant. "I don't _know_ what town we're in!"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Fenton said reassuringly. "Is Frank there?"

"Y-yes," Joe sniffled.

Two seconds later, Frank was on the telephone. "Fenton?"

"Frank. Where are you?"

Wincing, Frank recited off the exact address. "That work?" he asked, wondering how much Fenton was going to kill him because of Joe.

"Okay. Now, Frank, here's what I want you to do, okay?" Fenton asked, trying to calm the teenager down. "I want you to call the cops—"

"_No_," Frank said, firmer than Fenton had ever heard him. "I am not calling the cops. I do not trust them."

Fenton sighed. "Okay. I want you to wait at a nearby location. What's near there?"

"Uh… McDonald's, Arby's, Taco Bell… there's a gas station, there, too."

"Okay, I'll meet you in McDonald's as fast as I can," Fenton said. "Jack will fly me. We'll meet you there."

"I will see you there." Frank hung up the phone and turned towards Joe. "He wants us to meet him in McDonald's. He's flying up."

Shaken, Joe followed Frank into McDonald's, and didn't complain as Frank ordered. He paid for it, and the two took their tray and sat down.

"Joe," Frank said, "I'm sorry. I should trust the cops. I know I should. And these guys, you know, they're legit as cops get. I just… I don't trust the cops."

"It's okay," Joe said, even though he was still scared.

Sighing, Frank took a sip of his soda. "I feel like I owe it too you… I don't know. I feel like I should tell you my story."

Swinging his feet, Joe nervously glanced at Frank.

"You know how I was telling you Celestine was just off drugs. Everything was great. I was so exited," he said, smiling, remembering the happy times. "And then, after two weeks with no drugs and no abuse, she met up with Michael."

Joe remained silent. It was the first time that Frank had mentioned "abuse", and he wasn't sure how to respond.

"Michael was ticked, he was angry about being caught, and he was totally upset that I put him in jail." Frank sighed. This was the bad times. "Even though I didn't. I hadn't said anything, it wasn't my fault – but he didn't care. It was a rough two weeks. Eventually, my social worker came over, and she told Celestine, who, of course, was back _on_ drugs, that she couldn't have me unless she completed a rehabilitation program and signed a statement saying that Michael wasn't going to get custody of me. Went through about five more foster homes, then I met up with you guys." Frank wasn't going to give Joe the details of the one foster home. He didn't want to tell anyone about that. Ever.

The two ate their food, with Joe thinking about what to say. "I… I don't know what to say," Joe admitted. "I'm sure you've heard the 'I'm sorry' crap before. It doesn't do much good."

Frank laughed. "Thanks for finally getting that," he said. He pushed his fries towards Joe. "I'm not hungry," he said, "you eat them."

Joe was never one to refuse food, so he worked on those fries. They kept his mind off of the situation until his dad could get there. "That's him," Joe said, noticing his father's trademark rental car.

"Oh, crud," Frank said, swearing. A red pickup pulled in. _Michael's _red pickup. "Hide in the bathroom, Joe, hide in the bathroom now."


	9. Chapter 9

_Hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as the last. Again, will respond to all reviews eventually!_

_Midst Ride_

Joe had not failed to notice the red pickup, and was already on his way to the bathroom. Frank noticed some police officers standing outside, and he, too raced to the bathroom, praying that Fenton wouldn't allow Michael to have him back. Inasmuch as he didn't trust Fenton, he did _not_ want Michael to get him back.

"What are we going to do _now_?" Joe whispered. "We can't really block the door. He comes in here, and we are _dead_!"

"I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to wait for your dad to arrest him, then we're going to be fine." At least, that was what Frank hoped would happen; he didn't trust police. "Here's a secret," Frank added, "he, Michael, refuses to go in the bathroom in a public place, so we should be safe. With any luck he's only getting a cheeseburger – if you get my drift."

"MICHAEL GRANT, GET DOWN ON THE GROUND," the voice hollered from outside the bathroom door, and Joe and Frank huddled closer together under the bathroom sink.

"You think he'll find us?" Joe asked, worried.

Frank sighed. This kid worried worse then anyone he ever knew. "No, I don't, remember, odd bathroom phobia. If you're that worried, Joe, I want you to get inside the stall. Inside the stall, there's an air vent. I want you to climb it and hide there until the action's over."

"Want me to go know?"

Michael's swearing got louder, and Frank winced. He hadn't heard that word yet. "May as well," he muttered.

"Hold on – aren't you coming?" Joe whispered.

"No, you need to go," Frank replied, "Because two of us can't fit up there. Just go. I'll be fine."

Michael was ticked. His stupid kid had gone and left him in the drink, again.

All he had wanted was a daggone double-cheeseburger because he had been searching for the two teens for hours, and he was hungry. He hadn't figured out how they'd managed to escape. All he was thinking was, _how did you manage to get adopted by Fenton Hardy? _

"Listen," Michael protested as the police pulled him into handcuffs, "you've got the wrong guy."

"Heck, no," the cop said, "you made a fool of me once, buddy, and I'm not going to allow that again. You are not getting your hands on that kid again. Get in the car."

Fenton opened the bathroom door, praying all the meanwhile that Frank and Joe were in there. "Frank?" he asked, noticing the boy by the sink.

"I'm here," Frank said. It was as if someone had punched him; he looked deflated. "Where's my dad?" he asked.

"You mean Michael?" Fenton asked. After Frank's nod, he replied, "He's being arrested, Frank."

"Arrested?" Frank looked relieved, and again, Fenton was ready to kill Michael Grant.

"He's been booked on a couple of different charges," Fenton replied. "Where's Joe?"

Joe dropped down from the vent. "I'm here, Dad," he said, rushing into his father's open arms.

_Line_

Laura was extremely relieved when Joe and Frank were home. "Oh, Joe," she said, racing to her son's arms.

Frank stood, glancing at the ground, wondering how much he was going to have to pay for getting their only son kidnapped.

After Joe sat down, Fenton turned towards Frank. "Frank," he said, "we have some news to tell you."

Freezing, Frank glanced at Fenton. _They're going to give me up! _He thought, panicked. _No, please, no, please don't give me up. Please, I'm sorry Joe got kidnapped, please don't give me up. _Inasmuch as he hesitated to trust Fenton, it seemed like this was his best chance for a good home.

"Relax, you're here with us," Fenton said, but Frank's body remained tense.

"I know you know that you were adopted from birth," Laura began, glaring at Fenton. She wanted to break the news to Frank on her own time. "I know that that necklace you wear on your neck is from your birth mother."

"When Laura was eighteen," Fenton began, "she was pregnant with her first child, a boy. Since her mother kicked her out of the house, she could not adequately care for the child. So she decided she would put him up for adoption, and joined a 'healthy baby, healthy mom' program."

"During the course of the program, which lasted a year and a half, you would get job training and other necessary skills," Laura said, cutting in. "It was a good program, but it required giving up your baby for adoption."

"Halfway during the program, Laura's mother, who had kicked her out, got her back. She said that she had to stay now, since she was still only 17 and a half, a few months away from her birthday. Laura was still signed up for the baby program, so she still had to give her child up."

"The baby was born, premature by one day. Mom wouldn't even take me to the hospital, she was still ticked that I had gotten pregnant," Laura said. "My dad's salary was over six figures, but she claimed we had no money to pay for the birth."

_Where the heck are they going with this? Are they trying to get me to feel sympathetic for them? I don't understand. What on earth is going on? _Frank wondered. He wasn't sure what to say, so he just remained silent, standing there.

"The Healthy Baby, Healthy Mom program said I was allowed to stay there until I could get my feet on the ground, because they were so upset with my mother for taking me out of their care. I still had to give my baby up for adoption, though. I was relieved when I could pick the parents of my baby."

Taking a deep breath, Laura continued. "I went through all the books, and I picked a couple who appeared to be very much in love: Celestine and Michael Grant."

Frank's throat started too close up. _Oh, no, _he thought, _they're lying; they've got to be kidding me, or something, because this isn't happening. God, are they saying what I think they're saying? _

"What I'm trying to say," Laura said, tears starting to fall down her face, "is that I'm your mother, Frank."

"Mom?" Frank demanded, looking at his mother in shock and shaking his head. "That's a lie. My mother is Celestine. She did everything but birth me. She did **everything **for me. Celestine is my mother. She said not to respect my real mother, since I was a drop-off baby."

Laura closed her eyes for a moment, regaining her composure. "Frank, if she did 'everything' for you, then why are you in the foster care system?"

"You shouldn't even be allowed to foster kids, since you seem so fond of dropping them off," Frank yelled. He had no retort to Laura's comment, and instead responded by running to his bedroom and slamming his door. Then, loud enough to be heard, he yelled, "I give you ten days before you give me up again, and that's being generous!"


	10. Chapter 10

_Ah, what the hey. Probably won't be on tomorrow, so enjoy this chapter while you can. Hope you all review--on both chapters! Final chapter will probably be posted Wes., and then I'll post my next story soon._

_Thanks for all the awesome reviews!_

_Misdt Ride_

Frank was shaking as he sobbed into his pillow. He was sure to leave now! He had hoped for a house where he wouldn't get beaten up, and when it looked like he might have a potential candidate, he was Laura's kid, who she didn't want. He was surprised Greg, his social worker, wasn't already knocking on his door, telling him to pack his bags.

His whole life had been hard, except for the two weeks where Celestine was off drugs. That had clearly been the best two weeks of his life. He had been so happy that she was clean and he could live with her – without Michael. It didn't last long, but it had been happy, even if every meal was a combination of hot dogs and Mac&Cheese.

Things were looking worse now. This was his sixth foster home. Nobody was going to want a teenager whose parents had been hooked on drugs; there was too much of a chance of the teen getting hooked himself.

There was a knock on the door. Frank flipped his pillow over, dried his tears, and took a deep breath. "Come in," he said, wondering who was there.

_Lucky him._It was Fenton. "Are you okay?" he asked. "I know that was a big shock to you."

"So when are you guys gonna call Greg to take me back to the home?" Frank asked, his eyes still a bit tearstained.

"You're staying with us, Frank," Fenton replied. "We promised that we would foster you, and we're going to. If you want to go back to the home, that's fine, we understand. I think Joe might miss you, though."

Frank nodded. "I guess… I guess I would like to stay," Frank replied, accepting the glass of water that Fenton handed him. "I mean… it's either this or the group home, right? It's not like they have a lot of houses open for teenagers."

"I don't know what your options would be," Fenton admitted. "But it sounds like you know the system a little too well."

"Yeah." Frank sighed as he mulled over his options. Here, he had no idea what would happen from one day to the next, and he still hadn't seen Fenton when he was angry. But it was better than the group home. "Mind if I think it over for tonight?" he asked.

"Sure," Fenton said, rising from his bed. "And Frank, like I said, if you want to go back, that's okay. Your mother and I understand."

"Thanks, I think," Frank said as Fenton exited the doorway.

_Next day_

"Good morning, Frank," Fenton said, opening the door with a big smile on his face.

Frank grunted, throwing his hood back. Apparently he'd fallen asleep with his hoodie on. Again. "'Morning."

"Greg's coming for a visit today, just to give you a heads-up," Fenton said. "Given the situation any thought yet?"

"I think…" Frank hesitated only a second before replying. "I think that my best bet is to stay here for now."

Fenton smiled. "I'm glad, Frank, that's good to see. Joe would have missed you if you'd decided to leave."

At that, Joe ran into the room and tackled Frank. "We're blood brothers, almost," he said, with a big grin on his face.

Frank rolled his eyes. "I think they call it half-brothers, Joe," he explained.

Joe stuck his tongue out, in too good of a mood to be daunted. "Fine. Half-brothers. Wait until everybody hears I have a brother now!"

Rolling his eyes, Frank turned back towards Fenton. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Not to my knowledge, unless you have anything you need."

"Well… I did have one favor to ask," he admitted, looking at his clothes.

"Go for it."

"Would you mind if I got some new clothes?" he asked, looking down at his "holy jeans."


	11. Chapter 11

_We've reached the bitter end. Wow. Just wow. First, thanks for the awesome responce I got to this story. I loved each review. Secondly, I hope you'll stick around for when I can post a tale of two brothers, which is a mix of Frank&Joe angst. Hopefully I will see you at that story--because ya'll are awesome!! _

_Midst Ride_

_Six months later_

_Final game, Bayport High football season_

_Score: Bayport High, 20; Washington Pike, 13_

"Throw left, Frank! Throw to your left!" Joe yelled, noticing Mikey, the quarterback from the other team, on the other side. "Throw to your left!"

"I see the left!" Frank yelled back as he tossed the ball to Phil, who took it and ran with it.

"Come on, come on," Joe hollered, "Touchdown, Phil!"

"On it," he heard Phil say over the wind.

"Time out!" Joe could see the referee start to move in towards the game and he hurried towards the bench.

"Good job, Hardy #1," the coach said, referring to Frank. "I want to switch Biff in for you—get a fresh set of legs on the field. Hardy number two, keep an eye on Mikey, he's sneaky. The score is twenty to 13. We can do this. Phil, keep running with this touchdown-the ball's ours. We clear?"

"Break!" Everyone said at once.

As Frank sat down on the bench, he had time to reflect the past few months.

Everything had gone fine. He had been surprised; he had thought for sure that they'd give him back to foster care once they found out how they were related. But no, they didn't. Frank was extremely surprised.

Frank had gone into the situation with hatred and worry evident in his heart. Hatred at Michael, worry that the dad would be abusive. Everything had turned out a hundred, perhaps a million times better than he expected.

He loved Joe like a brother. Every time he got mad at Joe, Joe would leave him to cool down, then come back and talk it out with him.

As for Fenton, he'd only grounded Frank once, and that was only because Frank had been testing the limits and broken the bathroom mirror during one of his anger stages.

Laura, too, had been great. She and Frank had really started to get along well with each other, and Frank had felt all his anger that was previously at his birth mother slipping away.

"Touchdown—Bayport High!" he heard the announcer say, and Frank broke free from his thoughts. He grinned at Joe, who gave him a thumbs-up.

"Good job on the game tonight, boys," Fenton said as they shuffled into an ice-cream place. "I was very proud of you."

"Thanks," Frank said. He was still a little bit uncomfortable around Fenton, but he was going to a counselor twice a week to help with that.

"Thanks, Dad. Can I get double-fudge?" Joe asked.

"Before bed, Joe?" Laura asked, shooting her husband a look that said "NO WAY." Frank had to smile.

"Your mother's shaking her head no behind your back, Joe. I'm afraid I'm going to have to say no to this one."

"Fine." Joe walked up to the clerk with a big smile on his face. "A root beer float and a single-scoop fudge cone, please," he said.

"Goodie. Root beer has _such_ less caffeine than a fudge cone," Laura retorted, but then she soon ordered her own.

After they'd all ordered, they sat down. "Frank, I have a question for you," he said.

Laura and Joe both glanced up, but Frank could tell they knew what it was. He wasn't sure whether he liked that or not.

"Frank," Fenton asked, still a little nervous, "how would you like to legally be my son?"

_Later_

Frank smiled as he threw himself into bed. He still wore a hoodie to sleep, a habit he'd started after Michael had kidnapped him. So many foster kids longed to hear the words, "Do you wanna be adopted?"

He'd actually gotten to hear them. _Him! _Of all people!

He had screwed up so many times. He'd actually been brought back to Michael once by the cops because a friend in the car had crack on him. He'd almost spent the night in jail once for drinking, but Celestine had bailed him out.

Things were getting better, though. He was slowly recovering. It wasn't an easy process. There were days when all Frank could do was yell at Fenton for trying to make up to him. He found it hard to accept money or any gifts from Fenton, accusing the man of bribing him, even though he knew it wasn't true.

All his life he had just wanted to belong somewhere. Even in Celestine's house he'd never felt like he belonged, mostly because he didn't do drugs. Speaking of which – he darted from bed. "Hey, Fenton?" he asked.

"Yes, Frank?"

"I wasn't adoptable before," Frank said. Suddenly, he felt nervous. "How am I now?"

"We asked Celestine to sign the adoption papers so we could adopt you."

Frank let out a long breath. Good, this was done by the books. He nervously held his breath again, and then let it out before he spoke. "W-would you mind," he asked, "calling me your son?"


End file.
